


You Make That Dress Look Amazing

by brencer



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dresses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brencer/pseuds/brencer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon's high, and he dares Brendon to try on the dress they found. (Left on the floor after a crazy show. It was weird. They kept it as kind of a souvenir.) </p>
<p>Brendon's three beers in, figures, why the fuck not</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make That Dress Look Amazing

**Author's Note:**

> for that anon that told me to write a fic, yeah. I kinda went off what my discussion was earlier but okay. Have this anyways. [12:28 AM]

  The thing is, it starts off as a dare. That's how it always starts. Jon's high, and he dares Brendon to try on the dress they found. (Left on the floor after a crazy show. It was weird. They kept it as kind of a souvenir.) 

  Brendon's three beers in, figures,  _why the fuck not_ , and giggles the whole time he's stripping off his clothes, to when he picks up the dress. 

  It's small, goddamn it's fucking small. It would probably be snug on Ryan, at least, that's how it looks. When Brendon holds it against his body the middle curves in and you can see Brendon's bare skin peeking out, bright, contrast against the material, behind it. Brendon giggles again.

  Jon takes another drag and when he opens his eyes, Spencer doesn't think he sees any color, just pupil.

  Jon smiles, wide, like the Cheshire Cat. "Dude, go commando." He says, giggling like a 12 year old and falling into Ryan.

  Spencer thinks,  _oh god_ , in his head and throws an arm over his face, shielding himself when Brendon drops the dress to push down his boxer-briefs and laugh, loud and obnoxious, as Jon cheers and Ryan muffles a scoff. 

  When Spencer looks again, Brendon's tugging the material up his knees, thighs, stretching it outwards so it doesn't get caught on his dick, and up his hips. He looks good, Spencer won't deny that. The color is pretty against his pale skin, it's nothing Brendon ever wears, though.

  It's up against his ribcage, the material stretching hard against him.

  It's red, dark red. It's a nicer color than the pastels they play around with, in costumes.

  Closing in on his chest, Brendon gives one last pull, pushing onto his tippy-toes and giving a huff. 

  His arms fall, and there's a smile still present on his face. Warning the possibility of a giggle outbreak at any moment.

  Spencer's chest clenches.

  He can't breathe.

  There's this pang of lightning that echoes through his entire body, little hits off of each nerve under his skin.

  God. It isn't funny. Jon's laughing, Ryan's rolling his eyes but cracking a smile, and it's not fucking funny to Spencer. He's frozen to the spot, his entire body is on lockdown, except for his eyes. His eyes run over every inch of skin and material-against-skin he can see. Marking every blank space in his head. _  
_

  Brendon looks at him, sudden. "What do you think, Spencer Smith?" He giggles. His eyes are sparkling and he looks ready to fall on his ass at any given moment, tipsy, maybe drunk.

  Spencer can't talk for a long time, which prompts another gigglefest from Jon Walker.

  The words don't fit right in his mouth. He tries to say, " _you look ready for a night on the town_ " with a smirk and a laugh, or maybe even a joking " _Hideous,_ " but his mouth isn't working, it's dry, and every time he opens it he just can't breathe.

  Spencer doesn't like Brendon. He likes Brendon, he doesn't  _like_ Brendon.

  There's never been a day where he's thought to himself, _you know what I could go for? Some homoerotic lovin' with my best friend, lead singer of my band, Brendon Urie._ It's just not who he is. Yeah, he's liked boys, but not  _Brendon_. Not the guy who did a Gollum impression as his introduction to the band.

  But Brendon looks.. He looks amazing. He looks  _hot_. 

  And Spencer kind of wants to kiss him.

  Brendon's still looking at him, too drunk to realise how much time has actually passed. He leans on something and nearly falls over, tripping over himself. 

_Idiot_ , Spencer thinks.

  His heart does a flippy thing, thumping erratically against his chest.

  "Well, Spence? What do you think?"

  When Spencer risks a glance, Ryan's staring, lazy eyes and an off smile.

  Spencer swallows, hard, with the lump in his throat. "You look like you're wearing a dress you found on the ground after a concert." He says, and goes back to quietly nursing his beer and avoiding eye contact.

  Ryan snorts, Brendon huffs, Jon gets up to go _somewhere_ , Spencer can't be bothered to ask.

  "I look hot. Hot enough to eat." Brendon stands in a, somewhat, superhero pose. Back and ass to Spencer, hands on hips, feet apart.

  A little bit of Spencer dies right then and there because, god _damn_ , if Spencer had never noticed Brendon's ass before, he sure as hell would now. The dress complimented it perfectly and Spencer almost choked on his beer. It's like Brendon's doing this on purpose. _  
_

  "Hot enough to fuck." Brendon cocks his hip, turning to Spencer and nearly falling, once more.

  Jon reenters the room right when Brendon starts modeling. Sticking his arms up, feet pointed, etc etc. Jon laughs and spills his beer when he drops back on the couch. He falls asleep first.

  It makes sense, he was the most fucked up out of all of them.

  Jon passes out, then it's Ryan, and Spencer retreats to his bunk when Brendon says he's gonna change back into his normal clothes.

  Spencer tosses the beer into the trash bag they have set up at the end of the hall, for nights like these, and climbs into his bunk. Shoving his earbuds into his ears and turning the volume up to 11 bars.

  He's kind of half asleep, half awake when Brendon clambers into his bunk. Spencer asks why and Brendon just stares at him for a long moment, eyes hazy.

  He shrugs and says his bunk was too messy to sleep in, and crawls under Spencer's covers. The material on his skin isn't boxers or PJ pants or a thin T-shirt.

  "My clothes had beer on 'em, someone spilt." 

  "Why are you wearing the dress?" Spencer asks.

  "Would you rather I be naked?"

  There's a joking hint of sultry in his tone.

  Spencer grumbles under his breath and turns to face the wall, ignoring the feeling of Brendon curling up behind him. 

  Trying to ignore the feelings in his heart and stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself ' _He's your bandmate'_ ' and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> BONUS: The last thing Brendon thinks, a little less drunk, is something questioning. Worried, because his clothes were fine and dry, still on the floor from when he tossed them, he just likes how he feels in the dress.


End file.
